


Better?

by crowkag



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Italian Tony Stark, Nightmares, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Storms, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Young Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:19:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowkag/pseuds/crowkag
Summary: While Tony and Peter might be afraid of different things, what they have in common is where they go for comfort: each other.





	1. The One Where Peter Hates Storms

**Author's Note:**

> No angst, we die like the fluff-loving warriors we are. 
> 
> (Disclaimer: I only speak English so, to those of you who speak Italian, if there's anything weird with my translating please let me know!)

Pepper was going to kill him. Tony watched his tablet screen as he scrolled through report upon unfinished report, big numbers and colorful figures swimming in his field of vision. Some of the earliest ones were dated to a few months back.

Tony rubbed his eyes. He was tired as all hell and the caffeine wasn’t kicking in. He’d have to ask Rhodey what he drank, because this Luwak stuff was shit. He just wanted a beer. Or vodka. He wanted something that wasn’t dirty bean water before Pepper absolutely murdered him once her plane landed.

He settled for another swig of coffee. Outside, rain pattered against the windows.

Maybe there was a bad storm where Pepper was and her flight was being delayed, so Tony could have another few hours to read and stamp his signature. Or, thinking more like the master paperwork procrastinator he was, when Pepper saw how much he hadn’t done while she was in Beijing, he’d play dirty. He could throw in the Peter card. _You wouldn’t_ believe _how distracting the kid was, Pep. Every time I tried to start these reports, there he was,_ wanting _me for something. You know how four-year-olds can get._

That would work. Or he could just run. How fast could Pepper be in heels, anyways?

Tony was knocked out of his thoughts by a very small voice coming from the hallway.

“Dad?”

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as he set his tablet down, reaching over to the nightstand light. The moment it flicked on, Peter came bolting over in his footie pajamas.

“Hey, _bambino_. You good?” He opened his arms as Peter climbed up into the bed. The kid nestled into his chest, cheek flattening against the arc reactor.

“You wanted a night light, huh?” Tony quietly mused. His fingers found Peter’s curls almost on instinct and started gently threading through any tangles. He angled his head so he could look at Pete’s face.

“You have a scary dream, kiddo? _Visto_ _l’uomo nero_?” Peter didn’t answer, so Tony just hugged the boy closer and started rocking slowly. He looked out the huge window panes beside his bed, saw the water crashing against the cliffs of Malibu. If he focused, he could almost feel the rumbling under the house.

The rain was falling harder now, big wet blobs of water pattering against the glass. Tony anticipated the lightning before it came, and when it hit, a boom of thunder followed seconds later. Peter tensed, making a noise somewhere between a choke and a squeak, and moved to press his whole weight on Tony, wrapping his small arms around Tony’s neck and burrowing under his jaw.

Ah.

“Dim the windows, JARVIS.” The AI didn’t verbally acknowledge the order, but the room did grow darker as the outside world was blacked out. The greatest point of light became the bedside lamp. Tony rested his chin on Peter’s head and rubbed soothing circles into his son’s back. 

“It’s okay,  _tesoro_. Nothing’s gonna get you in here.” 

“It’s scary.” Peter’s voice was muffled and tiny. Tony’s heart clenched in his chest and a distinct memory popped into his head. He was younger by a good few decades, curled up under his covers with his eyes screwed shut and his breathing faster than was healthy. The thunder was so loud that he swore it was rattling the walls. 

He hadn’t bothered going down to Howard’s room that night. He would have just been turned away, told to stop whining and go to sleep. 

Another bolt of lightning came down, and while the visual was muted by the darkened windows, the succeeding boom still came through. One of Peter’s little hands gripped hard at the back of Tony’s shirt. 

Tony smiled into Peter’s hair. “You’re being real brave, kiddo, you know that?” And then he was moving, keeping one hand firm and steady on Peter’s back as he reached over to turn the lamp back off. He inched down the length of the bed until he could lay on his side, Peter remaining pressed to him the whole time. When they were rested against the pillows, Tony pulled the covers up and over them. 

The point of blue light from his chest lit up Peter’s rounded cheeks. He watched as his kid shifted back a bit, remaining within arm’s reach. Peter opened his brown eyes and looked at Tony directly, as if he were scared the older man would disappear somehow. 

_He looks like you_ , Pepper had said years ago. _Except for the hair, of course._ Tony smiled and rested his hand on Peter’s cheek, his fingers finding the nape of his son’s neck and rubbing the few curls he found there. 

“Better?” he asked, voice soft. Peter reached a hand out to press his own palm on Tony’s face. He’d take that as a yes. 

They lay there for a bit, Tony slowing his breathing and running his outstretched hand through Peter’s hair. Second by second, he could see the boy visibly relax on the mattress. Tony found himself scooting forward to kiss Peter’s nose and rest his forehead against his son’s. Normally, he’d add a loud _mwah_ with the kiss, something that never failed to make Pete laugh when he was upset. It didn’t seem too appropriate this time around, but even though he was silent, the moment his lips touched the tip of Peter’s nose the kid giggled. 

Tony smiled as his chest grew lighter, and he continued to place kisses all over Peter’s face, anywhere he could reach. Cheeks, more on the nose, on his eyebrows and forehead, over his eyelids. The giggles soon evolved into a laugh so hard and happy that Peter didn’t seem to care when another bout of thunder rolled in. 

Tony had started laughing midway through. He placed one final kiss to Pete’s face, right between his eyebrows, before cradling his son close. He felt every breath Peter took, every little rise and fall of his chest, and didn’t realize he was blinking back tears until a small hand came up and wiped at his cheek. Peter was looking up at him, his curly hair falling into his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” 

Tony stared down at his son and brushed the curls back from his face. “I’m alright, bud.” A beat of silence, and in that moment Tony could feel his gaze harden. “I love you, you know that, _bambino_? I love you so much.” There was a serious edge creeping into his tone that would have scared him years ago. “You can always come to me for _anything_ , okay?” He waited for Peter to nod and then was pulling his kid back into his chest.

Thoughts began flying through his head. He used to be so bitter at Howard for everything. For never having time for him, for turning him away, for never showing him the affection a kid needed. But now? Well, Tony was just confused.

Yes, it had taken him a while to accept that he was a father. He hadn’t been there for Peter in the early days, letting someone else do the hard work while he drank or smoked or stayed up too late in his lab. Things were different now, but those first few months of his kid’s life haunted him.

That was the past, though. Now, he was with Peter, his son, _his kid_ , and thinking about how Howard had treated him just boggled his mind. He loved Peter so damn much, made sure to tell him every day. He didn’t see it as “I’m going to show up my crappy dad,” and he’d tell off anyone who interpreted it that way. It was just… a privilege. The best part about his life. Sometimes, it was the only thing that mattered to him, and he couldn’t understand why Howard had been so _cold_.

It felt a bit like he was beginning to forgive the old man, to try and comprehend him instead of blaming him for everything.

Tony pressed another kiss into Peter’s hair. The boy had fallen asleep while Tony had been lost in thought. He rolled gently onto his back, taking care not to jostle Peter, who remained snuggled against his chest. Reaching up and over, he pulled the covers out from under his back and emerged into the fresher air of his bedroom. The rain had slowed down to a dull, intermittent patter, the lightning long gone.

He closed his eyes. _Good night, passerotto. I’ll be right here when you wake up._

(Pepper would walk in sometime around eight in the morning, ready to chew Tony out for his lack of work, before seeing him and Peter still sound asleep. And if she smiled and left, choosing to save the speech for later, well, nobody had to know.)


	2. The One Where Peter Tucks Tony In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what the title says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff. I almost died writing this, true story.

Tony hadn’t dreamt about Afghanistan in a long time. When he did, it was usually violent and loud. Shrapnel and water, men shouting at him in a language he didn’t understand.

This time, though… this time was different. He could feel it in his gut.

There was a white room. Tony had no physical sense of being there, but he could see as far as he wanted. The space was simultaneously small and stretching on forever.

Somewhere in the middle was Yinsen. Tony could swear he hadn’t existed a moment prior, but there he was anyways, standing perfectly straight and still. If Tony had a mouth, he’d shout. If he had hands, he’d reach out. If he had eyes, he’d probably be blinking back tears.

He couldn’t do anything except watch. He just _looked_ as the blood began pouring from Yinsen’s closed lips. A bruise bloomed on the side of his face, spreading, turning his skin purple. A crack appeared in his oblong glasses, the metal frames beginning to crumple in on themselves.

Tony saw no gun, but he heard the shot, saw the bullet in slow motion. Yinsen’s chest explode, and then…

And then he was awake, gasping in air and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. The covers were wrapped around his legs, wet with sweat, and Tony kicked them off with disgust as he sat up. He stared across the room, right at the dresser against the wall, at the suit ties he’d gotten pressed and had yet to put away. It hurt to breathe.

“Sir.” JARVIS’s voice flowed in. “Sir, are you quite alright?”

Tony waved a dismissing hand in response, then let his fingers rest on the mattress. He ran his palms on the sheets, back and forth once, twice, three times, before standing on shaky legs.

He left his bedroom but didn’t move to the kitchen, despite desperately needing some water. His feet carried him of their own accord, past the bathroom and down the hall. He stopped outside the next bedroom door down, the paneling of which used to be bare, but was now decorated in star stickers. A piece of paper was taped to the door, a messy scrawl that read _Peter’s Lab_. Both of the e’s were written backwards.

Tony pressed his hand on that paper. Peter hadn’t asked him to help with the spelling, as he used to. He’d just looked at his toy, that caterpillar with the alphabet on it, and written it all on his own. Tony still didn’t know how to feel about that.

Quietly, trying to keep it from creaking too much, he pushed the door open. JARVIS had turned on the hallway lights to a dim glow as Tony had walked to his son’s room. It was a piece of programming from what Tony called the B.P.E. (Before Peter Era.), when he’d drunkenly stumble down the hall and bang into almost every piece of furniture in his way.

While the lights weren’t needed for finding his inebriated way anymore, they helped to see into Pete’s room. A sliver of yellow creaked past the gap between door and frame, and Tony could see his kid’s little head poking out of his Star Wars covers. He pushed the door open wider and walked in, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

The kid was fast asleep, his curly hair mussed at the ends. Little fingers peeked out from the edge of the sheet.

_What’s something that grounds you, Tony? Something that makes you feel safe?_ That’s what the latest therapist had said a few sessions ago. So Tony reached out and settled his hand in Peter’s, closing his eyes. A bit of white flashed by in his head, red and purple as well, but he kept his thoughts trained on the point of contact between his hand and Peter’s. He listened carefully for the sound of his son’s breathing.

“Dad?” Tony opened his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there. Peter was upright, staring at him with tired yet curious eyes.

Tony smiled down at him, rubbing a thumb on the back of his hand. “Hey, bud.”

Peter considered him for a bit (as much as a four-year-old _could_ consider someone), looking like he wanted to say something. After a bit, he spoke, tongue catching slightly on his words. “ _L… l’uomo nero_?” Tony blinked at the Italian before sighing.

" _Qualcosa del genere, passerotto._ ” Either Peter could understand more Italian than Tony realized, or he just saw the tired look on his dad’s face, because suddenly he had his little hands on Tony’s chest and was gently maneuvering him down. Tony laughed lightly in surprise and let himself be moved.

“You gonna tuck me back in? That’s my job, kiddo.” In response, Peter just gave him a very stern _do not move_ look before getting out of bed and rushing over to the side of his room. Tony obediently stayed where was, knowing very well that one does not mess with a child’s direct orders. A very real smile crossed his face as he listened to the sound of small footfalls and the moving of toys. When Peter came back, it was with a stuffed bear in his arms.

As the kid climbed onto the mattress, Tony put a hand to his chest in a way that expressed _I’m honored_ . “You’re giving me Leia,  _bambino_?”

Peter put the bear in Tony’s arms, nodded more to himself than anybody else, then pulled his blanket up and over them both. Tony’s feet stuck out the end, but he found himself not minding. Peter leaned over and placed a kiss atop his head before snuggling right up into Tony’s side. For his part, Tony reached an arm down and placed his fingers in his kid’s hair.

“Better?” Peter whispered.

“Much better. Thanks, kiddo.”

“You’re welcome.” Pete’s voice was already sluggish, and Tony knew without even looking that he was struggling to keep awake. The kid seemed to fall right asleep the moment he got under some warm blankets.

Tony rubbed his blunt nails along Peter’s scalp, gripping Leia tight in a crooked elbow. This certainly was a first, being tucked in by his kid. The dream seemed far away now, as if he hadn’t been watching Yinsen’s injured face a mere half-hour or so ago. It hurt his head to think about it, so he didn’t. He just closed his eyes and waited.

And when sleep came, it was the best he’d ever gotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading, as always <3

**Author's Note:**

> I have been thinking about kiddo Peter and dad Tony for the past like, two weeks? So I made this instead of writing papers. 
> 
> So, l'uomo nero means "the black man" in Italian, it's basically the Italian boogeyman. I had so much fun with the Italian phrases and words! Tony using terms of endearment for Peter is just... peak fluff. 
> 
> I love you all, thank you so much for reading! <3


End file.
